


To Live With Your Ghost

by Skeletons_to_Ashes



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-What Makes the Sky Blue III: 000 (Granblue Fantasy), Talking To Dead People
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29866308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeletons_to_Ashes/pseuds/Skeletons_to_Ashes
Summary: It's been a few days since the crew had arrived at the beach, and equally as many days since Sandalphon had set up a food stall of his own there. During a peaceful sunset, he reminisces with Lucifer about what it's taught him so far, alongside hinting at his renewed interest in opening a cafe of his own one day.
Relationships: Lucifer/Sandalphon (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	To Live With Your Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of Sandalphon's summer fate episodes, so It does contain very mild spoilers for them! This is on the angsty side, so read with caution if you're looking for something fluffy/uplifting, but it does have a somewhat hopeful ending because I'm a coward who can't let anything end super sad. I just wanted to get some feelings out, and so I wrote this up real quick! 
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read/look at this!
> 
> My twitter is:[August_Ashes](https://twitter.com/august_ashes)

The pungent sulphuric scent of the sea burns his throat when he swallows the lukewarm wind as it nips at his chapped lips. It was enough to make him forget about the smoky aroma wafting up from the delicate cup cradled in his calloused hands, even as his dull, uneven nails rub absentmindedly against the heated surface. Beyond the soft crackle of his still boiling hot coffee, he could hear the seagulls flying above wail out their farewells to the day as they dip behind the rocky ledges that line the shore. The thump of their wings as they struck the cool air reminds him a bit of his own, and he wonders how long it had taken them to get used to the sticky sensation of brine coating the tips of their feathers as they flew. If Lyria were seated beside him right now, he imagines she might have even asked them on his behalf. He feels the faintest prick of a smile tug at the corners of his mouth at the thought. But as much as he’s grown to enjoy hearing their labored songs, he’s come to prefer the gentle roar that echoes against his ears as the ocean’s shallow waves bleed onto the sandy beaches. From where he sits upon the edge of a damp, wooden dock the very tips of his toes touch the tepid surface of those waves when they rear up before colliding with the land, spraying his dangling legs with a salty, cool mist. It sends a shiver down his spine each and every time it happens, but he doesn’t move. In the distance, he can hear Lyria excitedly call out to the Captain and Katalina. He knows every joyful giggle that clashes with the sound of the seagulls and the waves is from her lips as she laughs each time the water covers her feet.

He raises his cup to his lips, allowing the steam that floats off of its dark surface to sting against his dry skin as he inhales. The nutty scent of his dark roast blends with the seaweed and oysters from the ocean, and he takes a careful sip of the hot drink to rid himself of the unpleasant odor. Heat slowly flows down his throat, and ignites in his stomach before finally seeping into his chilled limbs. Pushing the cup into one hand, he tugs the edge of his open jacket a bit tighter about his bare chest. He can feel his knuckles scrap against the jagged, lumpy scars that decorate his torso, and his fingers grip the thin fabric just a bit tighter. With a sharp exhale he forces the tension from his body as he lifts his hand to fiddle with messy strands of auburn hair that flutter helplessly against the breeze. With stiff fingers, he tucks a long strand behind his ear, but gives up arranging the others after a few moments of fruitless struggling. With a soft plop, his arm falls lazily between his lower thighs so the ocean mist coats his knuckles and the coarse material of his swim trunks rubs against his scarred arms. For a brief moment, his gaze falls to the steaming cup of coffee nestled beside his thigh. The scent is just as bitter as the one held in his hand, but somehow the heat that rolls off of its almond-covered surface feels sweeter against his nostrils than his own did. 

The hustle and bustle of the morning is gone now. The beach is largely empty with the exception of the crew, and the handful of other patrons who had climbed up onto the rocky ledges to watch the sunset. Compared to the constant banter and laughter that had filled the beach for most of the early afternoon, he found this far more enjoyable. The blue of the skies that had stretched out over the shimmering waters was slowly beginning to dull as the dying flicker of the sun cast bright, golden tendrils across it. Painting the remaining clouds a soft peach, and staining the waves at his feet an orangey-pink. It was bright enough that he had to set his cup of coffee down beside the second cup so he could lift his hand to shield his eyes. It feels like it’s been ages since he’d been able to look up at the skies like this, but the thought makes his chest ache, and his lips quiver. He swallows around the lingering taste of black coffee on his tongue, and counts the shadows the birds cast upon the gentle waves as they pass by overhead. 

He hears planks of the dock groan against the pressure of the wind that pushes down upon them, and his weak smile remains upon his features as he tilts his head to look at gleaming locks of white, and the most beautiful cerulean eyes he’s ever seen. “I was wondering where you had gone, Lucifer-sama,” his voice cracks, but he hides it behind an airy chuckle that tastes like salt and ash. “For a moment, I was worried you might miss the sunset.” 

Lucifer flashes him a subdued smile before sitting down beside him. His legs dangle over the dock, and they’re long enough that the soles of his armored boots are completely submerged in the crystalline waters. Looking at him now, Sandalphon realizes how out of place he must have seemed to the mortals before he had been convinced to change into this far more revealing outfit. One he feels slightly self-conscious in when held beneath Lucifer’s gentle gaze. 

“I would not miss watching it with you for anything, Sandalphon.” When the former Supreme Primarch speaks, the wind nips at the archangel’s pink-tinted earlobes. 

“I-,” Sandalphon heaves awkwardly as he tears his eyes away from Lucifer to look up at the sky once more. “I wouldn’t miss watching it with you for...anything in the world either.” He draws his bottom lip inward, pressing the sharp tips of his canines into the tender flesh. He can taste copper on his tongue as he lowers his hand from his brows to let it rest on his lap. Rigid fingers curling into a fist against his thigh until he feels a gentle, tepid touch spread along his knuckles where Lucifer’s fingers come to rest ever so softly over his own. For a moment, the flushing pinks and radiant purples that mask the sky feel as if they’re an entire world away, and all he can focus on is the sensation of that touch until he finally pushes a trembling sigh past his sore lips. 

“Won’t you tell me about your day?” Lucifer’s voice is as gentle as the breeze that rolls off of the sea, and it relaxes him in an instant. His weak fist flattnes, and he lifts his head to offer the other a meek smile that could never hope to match the stunningly soft one that fans across Lucifer’s too smooth lips. He finds it impossible to focus on the glorious sight unfolding in the skies above them when the most breathtaking thing his tired eyes could ever hope to see is sitting right beside him. Compared to Lucifer’s splendor and unmatched beauty, the sunset that accents the pinkish undertones to his skin is dull and uneventful. Even the shimmering reflection of that milky sky upon the cerulean waters can’t hold a candle to the glorious blue of Lucifer’s eyes that never once leave him to look at the skies he holds dear.

“Are you certain you want to hear about it?” He feels Lucifer give his hand a light squeeze, and he can only shake his head fondly at the familiar gesture. It’s enough to finally make the corners of his lips tug into a sincere smile instead of the forced one he had been wearing. It’s difficult for him to gather his thoughts. A beat passing before he finally pushes them forward.

“I’ve learned quite a bit from running the food stall. I believe the knowledge I’ve gained will provide me with a strong foundation for when I open a cafe of my own. I admit I still have much to learn, but think I might be able to make it as a manager myself one day.” He swallows around the words, head tilting downwards slightly. Even though he had rehearsed what he would say to Lucifer a thousand times in his own head before sitting down upon the dock, he still finds his confidence wavering a bit with the other’s attention trained on him. 

“Sandalphon.” His gaze flickers upwards on instinct at the sound of his name when it’s spoken with such tender care that it nearly sends a chill down his spine that has nothing to with the wind licking at his back. One that he can only suppress for so long as he watches Lucifer’s hand reach out towards him, and feels the gentle brush of the other’s index finger and thumb as they slide gingerly down his jaw. “You needn’t fret so much. I have faith that you will make a most wonderful manager.” Lucifer’s hand withdraws to join their palms upon his thigh, and he finds himself watching the invisible trail of smoke it leaves behind in the air from metaphorically burning his skin. 

A chuckle falls from his lips. His breath warm enough that it trickles out against the dwindling sun. “What nonsense, you have yet to visit the food stall. So how can you know?” There’s no anger or hostility in his voice. Instead it oozes a deep longing, and the faintest hint of sorrow that he tries to shelter beneath his breathy, quiet laugh. 

“Because I have watched you become stronger.” Lucifer always answers him without hesitation, and always in a way that leaves him feeling a bit starstruck. But he still manages to furrow his brows, and wiggle his nose in protest. His lips parting to cut the other off only to be silenced by the gentle tap of Lucifer’s fingers against his mouth. “I recall how when the crew first came to you with this proposition, you informed me you had your doubts, and how frustrated you were that you had not been able to sell a single cup of coffee at the stall. You expressed your disdain for the task.” He smiles, removing his finger from Sandalphon’s lips. “But now you speak with a certainty you had lacked before. It is the first time I have heard you sound hopeful about something in ages.”

Sandalphon purses his lips as if to taste the last lingering traces of the other’s touch against them. “I haven’t-” his voice cracks as he tries to push the words out, and he has to pause to clear his throat in order to continue. “Has it...really been that long?” 

He can see how Lucifer’s smile falters for a moment. There’s pain hidden deep within those breathtaking eyes that Sandalphon has learned to spot amongst that kindness and warmth that always pours so freely from them. When Lucifer nods, he can feel his core tighten painfully at the motion, but the ache is soothed just a bit by the sensation of the other’s thumb tracing mindless circles against the back of his wrist. 

“So it has,” Sandalphon admits, but doesn’t allow those thoughts to drag him down further. “Actually, I sold my first cup of coffee today.” He flexes the fingers of his free hand, a soft smile pricking the corners of his mouth that are tinted pink as he shifts upon his thighs. The tips of his toes plunge further beneath the water where he can see the outline of Lucifer’s boots as clear as the rosy clouds reflected upon the transparent surface. 

“I’m proud of you.” 

He wonders how many millennia he had once waited to hear those very words. The same ones Lucifer speaks to him now more frequently than he could have ever imagined. And he knows they’re sincere. Lucifer has never been one to lie, but there’s more to it than simply the faith he harbors in the other. He can tell from how gentle his voice is. From how carefully he speaks those words. From how Lucifer looks directly at him with unflinching determination when they leave his lips. From how his fingers never release that comforting touch they offer. He still can’t answer those words properly. Still finds himself at a loss whenever he hears them. One day, though, he hopes he’ll be able to give Lucifer a proper and heartfelt thank you. Right now though, he can swallow, and continue to move forward.

“It was to an elderly Skydweller. She informed me she had once run a cafe on this very beach...but her husband passed, and so she was forced to close it down.” His gaze lingers on their joint hands, and he feels Lucifer’s hold upon his tighten. “I still recall what she shared with me —that her husband was known for speaking with their customers. Her words resonated with me, and so I plan to give it a try myself come tomorrow.” Her compliments, of course, remained with him as well, but not nearly as much as the admiration that had seeped into her voice when she spoke of the man she still clearly loved dearly. 

“I see.” The rose gold hue of the setting sun paints Lucifer’s skin an array of colors. Ones that have slowly begun to fade despite the fact that he hasn’t looked up at them once. “I have no doubt that you’ll succeed.” There’s a certain hint of melancholy in Lucifer’s voice that deeply frightens Sandalphon, but he doesn’t have the strength to comment on it when Lucifer is looking directly at him as if he were his personal sun—one more grand and wondrous and breathtaking than the one lighting up the sky a thousand different hues all at once. 

Lucifer continues, “Hearing you speak like this brings me great comfort. I know, going forward, that you will not only make a wonderful manager, but will continue to be a fantastic Supreme Primarch, as well. But, even more than that, hearing you speak like this—has made me realize that you will be all right.” 

Sandalphon swallows around the lump that forms in his throat. His lungs burn, and his heart hurts. It’s enough to make the corners of his eyes water, and he tries desperately to blink away the dampness that begins to coat auburn lashes. “L-Lucifer-sama.” Even uttering his name is enough to make him choke. The fire that had been dancing upon the clouds has dwindled. It’s little more than a faint, golden spark that fights helplessly against the threat of nightfall. “Your coffee is getting cold,” he says after a long moment as he tears his gaze away to look at the lukewarm cup sat between them. The contents having gone untouched. 

“So it is.” A faint smile forms on Lucifer’s pained features as he lifts his free hand to reach out and brush the tip of his thumb along the corners of Sandalphon’s eyes. “So it is,” he repeats. His voice is much softer this time around as he leans in close. That hand tracing downwards from the Supreme Primarch’s puffy eyes to his jaw, cupping it gently as he lifts the other’s chin to gaze into his gleaming, ruby eyes.

“My solace, no matter the time or place, I will always be watching over you.” His deathly pale lips press softly against Sandalphon’s vibrant ones, and Sandalphon leans into the kiss. Savoring the meager seconds that tick by as he feels what feeble warmth Lucifer has harbored begin to fade. His jaw quivers against the other’s weakening grasp, and he turns his hand over to wrap his fingers tightly around Lucifer’s.

When they kiss, Lucifer always tastes like stardust and flames. Like the cosmos and skies above them. Like everything that makes up this world, and everything that composes him. He tastes as sweet as his love is, and as welcoming as arms have always been. His mouth feels like velvet and ice. Like the fabric of his favorite shirt and the comfortable sensation of holding a familiar weapon in his hands. He tastes like home and feels like it too. 

“I know you are, my guiding light,” he whispers against the other’s chilled lips. His voice is hoarse, and unsteady as it spills from his lungs. If he could hold onto that hand any harder he would have, but each squeeze makes it feel as if Lucifer is slipping further and further away from him. His chest feels like it’s on fire, and his throat feels like sandpaper. He doesn’t want to let go. Doesn’t want to ever see the glimmer of stars against a darkening backdrop ever again. And there’s always this thought that crosses his mind through every fleeting sunset—what if he simply destroyed the stars, then, perhaps, sunset would never have to end. Oh, but he knows it's an absurd idea that brings him back to unwanted memories that only make the sting at the corners of his eyes pinch all the more. So, he keeps pushing instead. Leaning further and further into that kiss to steal every drop of warmth that clings to Lucifer’s vanishing, yet radiant light. 

What if, tonight, he went back with him? To that shaded garden that had been his greatest wish and his worst nightmare rolled into one. To where they had shared that final cup of coffee together, and he had forced himself to bite back bile when he had said his farewells to the man he still loves. What if, come tomorrow, he doesn’t awake to the vast expanse of the sky or the whirl of a ship’s engines, but rather to the colorful blossoms of a thousand different flowers, and the sound of chirping birds that stirred with the pungent scent of coffee? What if, when the faint traces of pink giving way to the darkness finally vanish entirely, he’s not here at all anymore? 

“Sandalphon!” The sound of a bubbly, cheerful voice silences those thoughts before he can attempt to act upon them. And the sound of damp, clumsy footsteps upon the dock signals that it’s time for him to go. But he’s not ready yet. He’s never ready, and he chases after Lucifer’s retreating lips with his own in a feverish desperation to demand he find a way to stay. He knows what he desires is impossible, but hasn’t everything he’s ever wanted in life always been just that—impossible? 

“They’re calling for you.” Lucifer's voice is a husk of what it had been, and Sandalphon finally forces his eyes back open to gaze at the brilliant sparks of moondust that have begun to cover his skin. He can almost taste their frigid touch in his throat. 

Sandalphon nods. Slowly, and with great effort, he forces a bright smile onto his features. It never gets easier. No matter how many times they exchange their goodbyes. Never does it get easier. Never does the burden upon his heart lessen, and never will he stop dreaming of the day when he can finally be beside Lucifer once again. Today is not that day. Tomorrow won’t be either. It won’t be a week or even a year from now. He doesn’t know how long it’ll take. The wait is agonizing, but stubborn persistence is all he’s ever known. So with a choppy voice, he somehow manages, “I’m going out for a bit.”

Lucifer smiles into what remains of their kiss as his fingers caress Sandalphon’s jaw until they become nothing more than shimmering dust tangled in the night breeze that whispers back the words, “I’ll be waiting,” to him. And Sandalphon knows he will. No matter how long it takes, and no matter how desperately his heart yearns, Lucifer will continue to wait for him until they can share a thousand or more cups of coffee together in that shaded garden. 

Like every sunset that has unfolded before this one, he lifts a hand to blot uselessly at his swollen eyes in the aftermath of Lucifer’s fleeting presence. He can still feel the phantom warmth of the other’s touch against his skin, and he prays it remains there until the next sunset. That smile, pained as it is, remains on his face as he lowers his head to look down at the cold, yet full cup of coffee sat beside him. One day, they’ll be able to drink it together again. Hope is such a strange thing to have when his heart constantly feels like it’s being torn in two, but he knows what, or rather, who has instilled him with inane notions such as joy and peace and forgiveness. Most of the time, he doesn’t know what to make of it. 

“Sandalphon,” that energetic voice calls out once more, but once more he doesn’t turn his head to meet it. His rough fingers are still wiping at his eyes, and his core still feels like it’s trapped in his throat. He’s not ready to face them yet. He never is.

They always make the choice to reach out to him first. They never let his hands remain empty and waiting. They always find a new way to worm their way into his ailing heart. 

So, it comes as no surprise to him when Lyria slams into his back with all of the force her feeble body can manage. A giggle on the tip of her tongue as she wraps her arms about his shoulders and leans onto him to look out into the night sky. “I found you,” she beams, as if she’s just discovered something worth holding onto, and it makes his fingers curl before he reaches out to gingerly settle his palm against the backs of her hands. They’re warm, and he can feel the soft thud of her pulse against his hand.

“You gotta stop wandrin’ off on your own, Grumplephon,” he hears Vyrn huff behind him, and turns his head to give the dragon a piece of his mind only to get a mouthful of his scales as the creature’s body slams into him with about as much force as Lyria has mustered up, earning a gleeful laugh from Lyria as Vyrn unceremoniously plops himself into Sandalphon’s lap. An equally mischievous, but joyful laugh bubbles up from the dragon sitting comfortably on his thighs, and it makes him want to rub his knuckles into Vyrn’s cheeks. 

“Why you -” Sandalphon snaps without a trace of ire in his rough voice. 

Yet, before he can exact his revenge on the crimson dragon, he feels a pair of worn, calloused hands reach out to grasp his own. Their warm touch pushes his own further against Lyria’s, and in turn, her palms splay against his chest where he knows she can feel the uneven beat of his heart. Inhaling, he tilts his head back ever so slightly to see the Captain’s grinning face as they join Lyria in entangling him in their arms. Both of them hold onto him as tightly as they can manage. To them, he’s something precious. Someone worth befriending, and someone they want to be with for as long as they can. 

For a moment their eyes meet, and the Captain offers him a knowing, sympathetic nod alongside a soft smile that could have only been outdone by Lyria or Lucifer himself. He can feel the pain slowly begin to ebb. A breathy laugh leaves his lungs as the Captain leans in to playfully rub their face into his unruly hair. Their tepid breath kicks up wild strands of auburn, as their nose twitches against the ticklish touch, but it’s not enough to make them stop. Sandalphon finds himself tilting his head back into that touch as his airy laugh becomes louder and more sincere. His chest rattles against Lyria’s hold and Vyrn’s head. He’s utterly helpless as the dragon shoves his snout into his stomach, and the girl in blue nuzzles into his shoulder. 

For now, this is where he belongs.


End file.
